


Interesting Times

by lea_hazel



Series: Decline and Fall [22]
Category: Seven Kingdoms: The Princess Problem (Visual Novel)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Bad Parenting, Birthday, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Infidelity, Jealousy, Male-Female Friendship, Possessive Behavior, Princes & Princesses, Revaire, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited, bad behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2020-02-12
Packaged: 2021-02-18 16:41:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21780556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lea_hazel/pseuds/lea_hazel
Summary: General Darius is almost the only person who takes an interest in Jarrod. Unfortunately for Verity, this extends to taking an interest in the health of his marriage.
Relationships: Arland Princess/Jarrod, Arland Princess/King of Revaire
Series: Decline and Fall [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/946446
Kudos: 6





	1. A Healthy Marriage

It was some time before she discovered that the General was the source of her bad fortune. She'd not have thought him capable of it. She'd not have thought he gave a damn, to be honest. Though if she were being honest, she could admit to having noticed that Darius alone, out of all his acquaintances, was capable of giving Jarrod his sincere and undivided attention. Once she had noted this strange fact, she remarked on it to no one and put it out of her mind. That was her mistake. She should have noticed also the greater implication, that Darius had her husband's ear, and could thereby influence his actions.

Hyperion was, as always, torn between demanding greater political involvement from his son, and discarding him as a lost cause. Darius seemingly had little interest in whether Jarrod participated in governance as a Crown Prince rightly ought. Instead he took a most unwelcome interest in the Crown Prince's marriage.

As Crown Princess, Verity found this state of affairs disconcerting, to say the least.

She was in his house, so she couldn't very well shake the General's scrutiny, and Lady Demetria collaborated with his efforts without bothering to understand their motivation. She often complimented Verity's dress or manner, but never when in the exclusive company of ladies. Wherever Gisette or the Queen were present, it was usually safest to direct the lion's share of flattery at them, as they were both as vain as could be. Gisette noticed the shift in Lady Demetria's demeanor, but it seemed only to amuse her. When Queen Violetta first noted it, her pale lips pursed into a tiny, genteel frown.

"Lady Kallis takes undue interest in the health of your marriage, Verity," she remarked idly, when the three royal women were taking tea in a private parlor together.

"Does she, truly?" asked Verity, widening her eyes. "I had thought my marriage was in perfectly fine health, Your Majesty."

"I don't doubt," said Violetta crisply. "See to it that it remains at this exact level of health, won't you?"

"Of course, Your Majesty," said Verity. "I was well-instructed in how to keep myself and my marriage in good health, even before my arrival to Revaire."

Violetta raised an eyebrow at this.

"Mama," said Gisette, pressing a hand on top of hers, "in Arland the custom is not to maintain the well-being of young maidens as we in Revaire do." She shot Verity an icy smile. "Isn't that right, dear Verity?"

"In Revaire?" sniffed the Queen. "In all the civilized world, more like. Well, never mind that, now. Just see that you keep your appointments to the apothecary and do as you're told."

"Yes, Your Majesty," said Verity, who'd not dreamed of doing otherwise until she absolutely must.

The longer she could put off that day... Well, that didn't bear thinking of.

"Why _does_ Lady Kallis take such an interest?" she asked Brielle privately, later on.

"Because her brother does," said Brielle simply.

"And why does the General?" asked Verity.

Brielle shrugged. "I'm afraid you'll have to ask him that yourself."

Verity shuddered. "I'm not sure I need to satisfy my curiosity that badly."

**

Whatever the cause of the General's interest, it had become obvious enough that no one could fail to note it. Darius Ayalah was not, apparently, a subtle man in his approach to problem solving. In her capacity as the problem he intended to solve, Verity felt rather cudgeled by his attention. Not a week had passed from when she was installed in his estate, and already she had caught him watching her at least half a dozen times, most pointedly when she was interacting with her husband.

Which, in general, she did try to avoid doing, but in such close quarters as they were, it became more difficult than usual. Back in the capital, Jarrod had the whole of the old and new palaces to roam, free rein of the city, and even the substantial park outside the city limits where he often spent entire days riding or hunting with his odious friends. The palace itself was always well-populated, especially with other young people who would willingly fawn over their Prince. Especially with good-looking young women.

The intimate society they kept at Lost Lake offered nothing of the sort. Not only was Nerissa not here to occupy Jarrod's attentions, keeping them mercifully off Verity's own person, there did not seem to be a likely substitute at hand. For all they formed a big and lively young company when gathered all together, there did not seem a single candidate to catch the Crown Prince's attention and hold it. Merit Ajah was as far from the type of girl who could catch his eye as any girl had ever been. Brielle would not look at him twice if she were paid to, Verity was certain of that. Of the two Kallis sisters, pretty, pouty Cecily was definitely the one to whom he'd more likely be drawn, and she might have even accepted his attention, were it not for her persistent flirtation with Lord Benedict.

Which was for the best, really. It would be callous and rude beyond measure for Jarrod to repay General Ayalah's hospitality and genuine kindness by making an attempt on his niece's virtue. Not that she believed him incapable of it. Most likely it wouldn't even occur to him to think of it as an insult, though it was certainly a grave one. In Arland and even Wellin, men fought duels to the death over lesser slights. And it was not as though Jarrod had so many people who took such an interest in his well-being as Darius did. In fact, as far as Verity could tell, Darius was the only man in Revaire who genuinely wanted what was best for him.

And Darius, unfortunately, had decided that what was best for Jarrod was Verity herself. Not that she necessarily disagreed with him on that point. She was just more concerned with what was best for herself, and closer contact with her temperamental and spoiled husband was not on the list. His lack of interest in any leisure activity she was likely to undertake had so far kept them at a satisfactory social distance. Darius's intervention threatened to upset that balance. Jarrod's twenty first birthday was very near, and the General had obviously set it to himself as an end in sight.

Verity had nurtured hopes of discharging her wifely duties towards Jarrod by appearing well-dressed to his birthday feast, and presenting an appropriately selected gift that she had prepared in advance. Darius, however, had other ideas. When or whether he intended to divulge them to her she didn't know, but she actually learned of them in advance quite by accident, by eavesdropping on a conversation between the General and Lady Demetria. Quite naturally, he'd spared no thought to her own plans for the day, and simply assumed that as a dutiful wife she would be available to her husband's convenience at any hour of any day. He intended, apparently, for Jarrod to spend the entire day of his birthday in her company.

She was quite curious to know what Jarrod thought of this plan, but she had the awful feeling that she wouldn't discover it until the last moment. And then, of course, she would bear the brunt of his displeasure, over a plan that she did not conceive, did not approve of, and would do a great deal to avoid. What an interfering man the General had proven to be. Verity wondered where he came by such marital wisdom, given that he was past fifty himself, and showed no matrimonial inclination despite undoubtedly being a suitable prospect for any well-bred and ambitious young lady. Briefly, she experienced the horror of contemplating whether Lady Demetria would try to arrange for him to court young Merit. But surely Lady Elyssen would allow nothing of the sort.

**

She was on the balcony adjoining the lounge when he found her, leaning her elbows on the stone railing, watching the tears of summer clouds move dreamily over the half-full moon. At dinner, Lady Demetria had seated her and Jarrod together, and shot her a number of unsubtle glances throughout the meal. They separated and went their own ways once the last dishes were cleared, Verity following the Queen to the small parlor she had commandeered, and Jarrod whisked away by Malcolm Kallis and Tristan Ajah to some secret conference. She would have been quite content for things to stay that way, but later that same evening she noticed that Darius had grabbed hold of her husband and they were conversing in low, urgent tones. Jarrod was scowling like a summer thunderstorm. That was when she decided to make her escape to the balcony, on the pretext of getting fresh air.

It even worked, for a while.

"There you are."

She'd heard his heavy footfalls, so she wasn't startled. She turned around slowly and deliberately.

"Were you looking for me?" she asked.

The scowl on Jarrod's face was no less fearsome up close.

"Was this your idea?" he demanded, crowding close to her and looming as only a man who had no idea how tall he was could.

She scowled right back at him. "Was what my idea?"

"Darius just all but ordered me to take you riding over the countryside tomorrow," he complained, and added, pointedly, "all day."

"Heavens, no!" said Verity. "I suggested no such thing, I assure you."

Jarrod's anger transformed rapidly into a worried frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"

His hackles were up. Verity shrugged as nonchalantly as she could and replied, "Nothing. I just assumed that you would want to spend your birthday hunting with your friends. Isn't that what you did last year?"

He nodded, frowning distractedly.

"There, now," said Verity soothingly. "Why don't you do that, instead? It's not as though the General actually has any authority over you. And besides, it's your twenty first birthday. Oughtn't you get to spend it as you like?"

Jarrod nodded again, but then said, "It must have been Mama's idea, then. I wonder what scheme she's cooking. She should know by now that I'm my own man and she has no influence over me."

That was very much not the case, which Verity knew from experience, but she chose to focus on the other falsehood in his statement. "Why must it be the Queen behind it all?"

He snorted derisively. "As if Darius could ever come up with such a ludicrous scheme. Why would he even care? When he came to talk to me, I thought he was going to suggest sailing on the lake."

"Marvelous idea," said Verity. "The fresh air and sun will do you wonders, and I know you're fonder of General Ayalah's company than you'd ever admit."

He harrumphed, but didn't deny it.

"There," she said with satisfaction. "Much better for everyone involved, isn't it? How nice it is when we can arrange things so that everyone gets what they want."

"I suppose," said Jarrod reluctantly.

"Look," she said, gesturing subtly at the open door beyond. "I think Tristan is calling for you. They must want you for cards."

He perked up at that, and disappeared into the room beyond with almost a spring in his step. Verity sighed internally with relief, and began plotting all the things she could do with her freed-up morning, now that she was not obliged to babysit her petulant husband. She had designs on the General's library, if she could gain access to it. Perhaps later in the day she could find time for a leisurely ride to Glassmere, where Tristan had promised that she could see the puppies in the kennel again, whenever she liked.

All in all, a good day's work.

She was very much surprised, then, to hear a heavy knock on the door of her guest bedroom the next morning, whilst she was still in her dressing gown and having her second cup of tea. Petra glanced at her for approval and she sighed and shrugged.

"If you must, then," she said, flapping a hand at the door.

Jarrod barged in as soon as he was admitted, all but shoving Petra aside.

"Aren't you dressed, yet?" he demanded. "Sunrise was ages ago!"

Verity raised a single eyebrow at him. "Since when are you up and about at such hours?" she asked.

He waved away the question. "Never mind that. Get dressed, quickly. And not in one of your stupid frilly things. Wear a sensible dress, and meet me at the stables. Don't be late."

Verity's fists clenched involuntarily, but Jarrod had already turned on his heel and stomped back out of the room, without bothering to shut the door behind him. A passing maid carrying fresh laundry peeped in, and then hustled away down the corridor at the sight of Petra's iron glare. Petra shut the door firmly and turned to her mistress.

"Change of plans, milady?" she asked dryly.

"Apparently," said Verity. "Well, best bring out my riding habit. I wouldn't want to put him in a temper."

"Quite charitable of you, milady," said Petra, and turned to the clothes press.


	2. A Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jarrod and Verity go riding along the road that circumambulates Lost Lake. Along the way, they have a brief encounter with Tristan Ajah, his mother, and some puppies.

Verity abandoned her tea with some regret and hastened to dress for the day, with all due acquiescence to the limits on her husband's patience. It was a good thing Petra had trained the younger maids to keep the wardrobe in good order. She could change her plans at a moment's notice and still have the right dress at hand, which was proving useful, as much as she hated changing plans. But there was no time to dwell on that, and no point in distressing Jarrod on his birthday of all days, so she put idle thoughts out of her mind and flew down the stairs and out of the house, to where Jarrod and Saber already stood waiting.

Saber was a notoriously temperamental horse, and easily affected by his master's vagaries of emotion. Already she could see them both shifting restlessly.

"I'm here," she said unnecessarily when she stepped up.

"Good," said Jarrod, glancing up at the sky. "It's getting later than I'd like."

"I always thought you hated early morning rides," said Verity.

He made no answer except to mount up and hold his hand out to her, in a way that was more demanding than gentlemanlike. It was no matter. She knew his nature when she married him, and if she didn't like it, she had no one to blame but herself. Jarrod made straight out of the estate grounds and followed the straight, neat path that led down to the road encircling the lake. As soon as Saber's hooves struck the paving stones of the road he broke into a bone-rattling whirlwind gallop. It was Jarrod's preferred pace of riding, and one which he rarely got to indulge in the city or even in the parkland surrounding the new palace.

Her husband, it seemed, was prepared to take full advantage of the country atmosphere and its particular charms. Meanwhile Verity could feel the sweat gathering at the nape of her neck and dripping slowly down her spine.

Of course, even a fitful stallion like Saber could not gallop indefinitely, and after an interval that was probably shorter than it felt, Jarrod reined him back to a light trot.

"That was terrifying," said Verity, once she had caught her breath.

"That's how real horses run," replied Jarrod. "You'd know that if you had one, instead of that miserable nag."

Verity was quite fond of Lyta, and preferred her pace of riding tremendously. She huffed.

"Well, you can ride however you like when you're out with your girl friends," said Jarrod, almost magnanimously.

"Yes, I can," agreed Verity.

"But when you're with me, you'd better get used to the pace of it," he went on. "Men don't like to be slowed down by women."

"Yes," said Verity, "I noticed."

"Just don't ask me to slow down," said Jarrod, "because I won't. Let's go!"

And without waiting for an answer, he spurred his mount back into a gallop. Verity closed her eyes tight against the rushing wind and blessed Petra, for having the good common sense to remind her to take a kerchief for her hair. She didn't want to know what a crow's nest she would have had to untangle for dinner, if she'd left her braided hair to hang freely down her back. Or down her front, really, since Jarrod was holding her so tightly against his chest that he undoubtedly would have complained about it. He seemed to always complain about her clothes and hair, whenever he noticed them at all.

The rest of the morning went on much the same, alternating brief spurts of heart-stopping galloping, until finally Jarrod broke off the well-paved road that encircled the lake, leading them down a faint path into the rolling green meadows. A light wind ruffled the tops of the tall grasses, and gave a small respite from the heat of the bright summer sun. Riding through the fields forced them to slow down a little, and Verity's attention strayed. No longer preoccupied with praying not to die in a horrible accident, she finally noticed that Saber wasn't wandering at random through the green pasture, but leading them up a low incline, to a shady coppice at the top of a swell of land.

"I knew I wasn't the only one getting tired," she murmured.

"What?" said Jarrod sharply. "What did you say?"

"Nothing," she replied. "Just that it would be nice to take a break, for a little bit."

"He needs to rest," said Jarrod, "and I need to eat."

It did not escape her notice that he mentioned nothing about _her_ needs.

"Did you bring food?" she asked. "I didn't notice you carrying anything when I came down."

"If you'd been ready when I told you to be," said Jarrod, "you would have been there when I sent the footmen ahead with our picnic." As if feeling her look of disapproval, which he certainly could not see in his position, he quickly added, "Darius said I could."

"I'm glad you're prepared," she said.

When they reached the shade of the trees he let her down, almost gently, and went off to find Saber the best grazing. She supposed that was sensible and even kind, given that the horse was certainly working harder that morning than either of them, and deserved his own rest. No footmen were to be seen anywhere, but there was a picnic basket and a folded blanket, which she spread out in the crushed grass under the trees. It was a well-trampled area, which she decided meant it must be the best place to sit.

By the time Jarrod came back, he found her sitting on the blanket with her legs curled under her and the skirt of her riding habit tucked neatly underneath. Verity was tempted to pull off her boots and rest her feet on the cool grass, but it was too much trouble. She would not be able to rest properly until she got back to her room in Merrotayne, anyway. She pulled off her kerchief and patted her hair to make sure that it had achieved its purpose in keeping out the dust and maintaining her braid more or less composed.

Jarrod dropped down onto the blanket next to her, stretching out his long legs before him, and sighed before remarking, "You're wearing your hair down."

"I thought it would hold better for the ride than if I wore it up," said Verity.

"I like it like this," said Jarrod. "You should always wear it down."

Verity laughed. "I'll have to pin it up again before supper," she said.

"That's silly," said Jarrod.

"Fashion is silly, sometimes," she admitted, "but I still have to wear what's stylish. It wouldn't do much for my reputation if I appeared out of style."

He scowled. "What idiot decides what's in style, anyway?" he demanded.

"Your sister, usually," replied Verity, ducking her head to hide her smile.

He muttered uncomfortably, but dropped the subject. Whatever lines Jarrod was willing to cross, his foolishness did not extend to calling his own sister an idiot so openly. She wouldn't vouch that he understood just how much Gisette eclipsed him in the department of intellect, but even he couldn't deny that she was brilliant. Verity occasionally found herself envying her, though it was never a comfortable emotion.

"You're not hungry," said Jarrod, interrupting her reverie.

There was no question in his voice, but she replied for the sake of conversation.

"The ride was a little too breathtaking," she said. "I think I need a moment."

He snorted, and propped himself up on one elbow to dismantle the picnic package that had been wrapped for them. He divided the cold lunch more or less evenly, in accordance with his own ideas about how much ladies should eat, and immediately set upon his portion. Given the rate at which he was demolishing it, Verity thought it wise to start picking at her own portion, and hope that the smell of fresh-baked bread could awaken her appetite. Jarrod was only too likely to help himself to hers, if his proved unsatisfactory. He'd had very little regard, in the first six months of their marriage, for his wife's physical needs. Verity didn't see a reason to assume today would be any different.

Once his hunger had been satisfied, he sprawled back on the blanket, closing his eyes, and looked ready to drift off into a long post-meal nap.

Verity weighed her options for entertainment in the middle of a wide meadow, until she heard him speak up again.

"Is there a reason you feel the need to look down on me like that?"

She turned to regard him. "Just because I choose to remain seated while you lie down?" she asked. "I'm not sleepy."

He shrugged one shoulder. "Doesn't mean you have to stay so far away."

Verity assessed the distance between them on the cramped blanket. Naturally, Jarrod's lanky form took up at least two thirds of it. There was a hand-span or two between them, no more. He couldn't possibly mean it literally, so there must be something else underlying the words. An odd feeling. Jarrod was rarely anything but literal.

"Some days," he said, "I hardly even feel like I have a wife. Seems like I never see you."

"Really?" asked Verity. "I never thought you took an interest. Did you seek me out and not find me? My schedule is usually quite predictable, and I don't range far from the palace."

"I never see you around when I'm looking for you," he insisted.

She propped her elbows on her knees and her face in her hands. "When was the last time you looked for me and couldn't find me?" she asked.

"The day before we left for Lost Lake," he said without hesitation.

Of course she remembered what she had done that day, not that she intended to share it with him. But of all the days he could have named, when she could have easily accounted for her activities and turned the question back on him, that wasn't one of them. And it was imperative that she distract him from the truth at once. There was no telling how he would react if he scented the slightest hint of fear or even hesitation on her part.

"You're right," she said, and he huffed in satisfaction. "I was meeting with the ambassador's wife, who was kind enough to organize a little gathering on my behalf. I knew we would be away from the city all summer, and there were some partings I had to manage. I don't remember exactly when I got back to the palace."

"See?" said Jarrod triumphantly. "I knew it."

"I thought you wanted to rest from all the riding?" asked Verity.

"Well, then," he said, impatience creeping into his voice, "why don't you stop looming over me and get on over here?"

And he grabbed her wrist and tugged, not hard enough to pull her down to his level, but still insistently.

Verity couldn't think of anything she wanted less, but if it kept him quiet and content for an hour it was worth the sacrifice. She shifted to lie down carefully on the blanket, and Jarrod immediately wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He wasn't to be deterred until she was resting next to him, with her head on his chest. What he thought to gain from it, she didn't know. She certainly had no plans to indulge his sexual appetite in such an exposed place, if that was what he had in mind.

But Jarrod only pressed his face into her hair and mumbled, "That's better."

After that he did drift off into a light sleep, and Verity nearly followed. It was a warm, drowsy day, and the meadow could have been a charming setting for a leisurely picnic, in better company. It occurred to her that Brielle might enjoy an outing of that sort, but no. Brielle usually preferred the few wilder places still remaining in the neighborhood, not the pastures and roads and other, more civilized areas.

* * *

Matters improved after lunch. Jarrod was in as good a temper as he ever was, now he'd had food and rest. He stretched luxuriously when he woke up, shunting her half off the blanket, much to her consternation. Sitting up, he looked at her sidelong as she tried to pick the grass out of her hair and laughed.

"You look half-savage like that," he said, reaching over with one long arm to pull off a single blade of grass that had clung to her braid.

"Well, it wasn't my idea to take a nap in the middle of the pasture," said Verity grumpily.

"I think it suits you," said Jarrod.

"I think I'd rather maintain my reputation, and not be seen with my hair and clothes so rumpled," she retorted.

He laughed in her face and jumped to his feet, holding out a hand to her. Verity hesitated, but took the offered hand. It was rare enough for him to offer her a hand without being prompted, she didn't want to set a bad precedent by rebuffing him. She might have known better, though, because he pulled her to her feet so energetically that she almost lost her balance.

"Come on, let's ride!" he said, pulling on her hand.

She pulled back. "Not yet," she said. "I need to put myself in order."

He clicked his tongue impatiently, but let go of her hand so she could tug her habit back into proper shape, and try to smooth back her hair under her kerchief.

"Are you ready yet?" he demanded to know.

"I'm almost ready," replied Verity, who was still trying to fix her hair.

"I've been ready for ages," said Jarrod.

"You're _always_ ready," muttered Verity under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing," she sighed. "Let's go. Just don't go so fast, this time."

"Going fast is the whole point!" he insisted.

Verity lowered her lashes and then looked up at him. "Please?"

It worked, of course. It had never failed before. She doubted her etiquette tutors had intended her to use their exacting lessons in quite this manner, but she was grateful for it nonetheless. She didn't expect the reprieve to last for long, but the rest of the ride around the lake, at least, was a little less tooth-knocking than the morning had been. All was as expected, until Saber slowed down near the turn onto the Glassmere estate.

Jarrod dismounted, and handed Saber off to one of the stable-boys, while another ran up to fetch the mistress of the house.

"Are we stopping here?" asked Verity.

Jarrod didn't answer. "Stay here, wait for the lady of the house to come greet you."

He turned to leave, and she put a hand on his arm. "Where are you going?"

He just shrugged it off and raised one finger to her face. "Stay. Here."

She watched him walk away across the estate grounds, disappearing past a swell of carefully raked dirt, until she was startled by a hail from the opposite direction.

"Princess Verity," said Lady Elyssen. "We're honored by your unexpected visit."

"Unexpected to me, too, I assure you," she replied.

Lady Elyssen frowned, but said, "In that case, perhaps Her Highness would like to take advantage of the unplanned excursion, and pay a visit to our kennels?"

Verity couldn't help but perk up at the offer.

Her gracious hostess smiled wanly. "The puppies have been growing so quickly. They're very playful."

Verity, who still cherished hopes of someday adopting one of the Ajah puppies, quickly decided to abandon her fruitless wait and follow the prospect of small, fuzzy entertainment. The full-grown hounds stood as high as her hip and were more than a little intimidating in their unbridled energy, but the equally-energetic pups were too small and soft for her to be anxious around them. When she'd last seen them they were still of a size to crawl all over each other in a big pile, but now they were old enough to begin exploring their surroundings, and Verity was impressed by their verve and curiosity.

Lady Elyssen was sitting against the wall, straight-backed, petting an old, droopy-earned hound that had rested her head in her lap. She was smiling, very faintly, though she looked no less melancholy than usual.

"I think Adalric would have liked you to have one of them," she said very softly. "Maxima was always his favorite. He couldn't wait for her to whelp her first litter."

Struck, Verity struggled to come up with an appropriate response, but she had no chance to complete it. Before she could say anything at all, Jarrod burst in on them, and the quiet, intimate scene was shattered. A puppy wiggled up to him to investigate his boot, and he scowled at it so fiercely that it whined and wiggled away again.

"There you are," he said when he spotted her.

Verity, who was busy letting a puppy nibble her thumb, smiled up at him and asked, "Are we riding back?"

"We'll be late if we ride all the way along the lake's shore," said Jarrod. "The only way to get back to Merrotayne in time for dinner is to cut across."

"Across?" repeated Verity.

"Across the lake," said Jarrod impatiently, "by boat."

"Tristan can take you in his sailboat, if you like," said Elyssen. "You can leave your horse safely with us overnight, Your Highness."

"Yes, that's what we agreed on," said Jarrod.

"Really," said Verity skeptically.

"Tristan said he would ride Saber up to Darius's estate first thing tomorrow morning," said Jarrod curtly. "Now, come on. I don't want us to be any later than we already are."

"He'll probably be in before you even wake up," said Verity in undertone, but she followed dutifully nonetheless.

* * *

Tristan was waiting by the lake's docks, and they found him in good cheer. Verity was glad to see him in a less somber mood than when they'd first met, but wasn't certain to what she could ascribe the change. It was no use for a young man in prime of life to while away his days in grief. Perhaps the separation from his mother was helping him, although Verity couldn't say that she'd ever noticed Lady Elyssen striving to keep him close by, as some mothers did with their adult sons.

This train of thought reminded her of her brother, and she abandoned it hastily by greeting Lord Tristan with all the cordiality she could claim.

"I hope you're ready to sail, Your Highness," he said with a grin.

"Be warned, Lord Tristan," replied Verity in amusement, "that I have limited sailing capabilities."

"Really?" he asked. "My brother's last letter definitely mentioned you winning a boat race of some kind."

"I cheated," confided Verity, "by recruiting two able and experienced sailors to my team, to make up for my own lack. I did learn a thing or two, though."

Tristan laughed and nodded, but was wise enough to steer away from the dangerous subject when he caught sight of Jarrod's surly expression.

She thought she acquitted herself reasonably well, and they made good progress sailing across Lost Lake. At least, if to judge from Tristan's blithe spirits. It was not in the least surprising that a boy who'd grown up on the shores of a large lake was a practiced sailor, she supposed. She _was_ surprised to note that her husband was not completely unpracticed, although Tristan's experience was obviously superior. This led to an uncomfortably thin balance wherein the young lordling had to instruct his prince, without appearing to issue orders, both for reasons of propriety, and mainly to stay Jarrod's frayed temper.

They did, however, make it across the lake in due time, and then watched Tristan set off across it, back to Glassmere, with a borrowed page to take his orders. The sun was nearing the horizon, and Verity was about to head up to her guest room to get changed for dinner, when Jarrod grabbed her by the arm.

He pulled her close and leaned in until their noses were almost touching, and hissed, "What's going on between you and Tristan?"

Verity did not have to feign either confusion or alarm. "What?"

"You heard me, Verity," said Jarrod. "Just how much time have you two been spending alone together? Behind my back?"

Verity tugged on her arm, though she knew it was a futile gesture. "I don't do anything behind your back," she replied. "Lord Tristan has been kind and courteous, and I'm quite fond of his sisters. If that's what raised your ire, I fail to see how there's anything wrong with it."

Jarrod clicked his tongue. "You expect me to believe that he's so _friendly_ with you just because you took an interest in his stupid sister?"

Verity shrugged one shoulder. "I don't control what you believe," she said. "It's true. Will you let me go dress for dinner, now?"

His brow furrowed, and she imagined wheels and gears clicking in his head. Abruptly, he dropped her arm like a hot coal, but leaned in again and said, "This isn't over." Then he turned and stalked away, taking the stairs up to the house two at a time.

Verity rubbed her arm briefly, deep in thought.

Petra, of course, was ready and waiting in her room, having prepared everything she would need in advance. There was time to bathe but not to soak, which Verity resented, but she also knew that she would want that soak as much or more the next day. Her clothing had all suffered the effects of a day's unusually vigorous activity, from her rumpled riding habit to her malodorous under-shift. And when she undressed, she knew that Petra would find out before she did just how badly bruised she actually was.

"How was the ride?" asked Petra, fishing a blade of grass out of her hair.

"Better say _race_ instead of ride," replied Verity wryly. "I learned exactly what Saber is capable of, today. I shan't be repeating the experience, if I can help it. And damn Darius for suggesting it to him, to begin with."

"I see," said Petra.

"We came back by sailboat, with Tristan," she went on, "so at least I got to enjoy the lake, a little."

Petra said nothing, but Verity could practically _hear_ her raising an eyebrow, so she half-turned to catch her eye.

"What is it?" she asked.

"Lord Tristan ferried you across the lake," said Petra. "Will he be attending the birthday dinner?"

Verity shook her head. "He wasn't invited, and I think-- Well, I hope not."

Petra tipped her head to one side.

"I think Jarrod might be out-of-sorts with him, which would be a shame, since he's a good influence," said Verity with a sigh. "I wouldn't want for his irrational jealousy to get in the way of what might be a genuine friendship for him."

"And you," Petra pointed out.

"Well, yes," admitted Verity. "I do regard Tristan as a friend, but I hope I haven't given anyone reason to consider that friendship inappropriate. Tristan has certainly done no such thing, nor would he."

"You seem quite confident of that, milady," said Petra.

Verity regarded her through the mirror while she took apart her braid. "Do _you_ have reason to believe that Lord Tristan's attention is anything but friendly?" she asked.

"No, milady," she answered, after a short hesitation. "I wouldn't like to be made to prove it, though. It might cause as many problems as it solves."

This, Verity considered, would require deeper thought than she had time for at present. "Well," she said briskly, "the day isn't over yet, so we'd best leave the deep ruminations for another time. Jarrod won't be the only one fuming if I'm late to dinner."

"Yes, milady," said Petra. "Should I be ready to receive you after dinner, or will you be staying with Her Majesty in the parlor?"

Verity sighed. "No, I'd best take my leave early, while he's distracted. He might decide to stay up late and get drunk, but then he might not. With luck, I'll be able to get an early night's sleep."

"With luck, milady," said Petra in a tone that conveyed deep skepticism.

"How inconvenient that he should decide to take an interest in me now," said Verity, "after six months' relative peace."

Petra said nothing at all, and just went on untangling her hair.


	3. A Tense Morning

If Verity had hoped that her husband would be so obliging as to celebrate his twenty first birthday by getting excessively drunk and falling asleep early, it was a vain hope. She was obliged to dedicate the rest of her evening to his whims, as well. But despite his myriad other flaws, taking care of Jarrod's vanity was quick work, and once he lost interest in her he immediately rolled over and fell asleep. Verity sighed to herself in the dark and gambled that he would be more cross if she was absent in the morning, and one guest bedroom was as unfamiliar as the next, after all. After the long, anxious day she had, falling asleep was also easy work.

Morning was another matter. Jarrod was a late sleeper as a matter of course, so she was dimly, blearily surprised to feel him stir beside her while she was still half-asleep herself. She made a questioning noise, but got no reply. Sometime in the night he had thrown an arm over her, and she woke, blinking in the early light, to find herself huddled against his side, her face squashed against his chest.

She blinked again, and heard a muffled sound.

"That tickles," he murmured sleepily into her hair.

At the same time another, louder voice said, "Get up."

Verity froze, every instinct cautioning her against turning her head up to face the owner of that voice, to meet his eyes.

"What--"

"I said, _get up_. It's far past dawn, and no time for you to be lazing in bed. Useless boy. Didn't you say just last night that you wanted to be treated like a man? It's time you grew up and started acting like one."

The speech was rather a lot for her to process, first thing in the morning, before having had so much as a cup of tea. She could hardly imagine what was going through Jarrod's head. He was always so sluggish in the morning -- not that he was especially brilliant at any other time of day. While she was screwing up her courage to open her eyes, she felt him shift beneath her, sliding away, starting to get up.

Verity opened her eyes.

"Go back to sleep, Verity," said Jarrod. "It's early."

He bent down to retrieve a shirt that he'd cast to the floor the night previous, pulling it on carelessly. She glanced beyond him and saw Hyperion, standing with his arms grimly crossed, dressed in black from tip to toe and with a sword at his hip. Whatever he had planned, it was nothing good.

"Jarrod," she said, and her voice was still rough with sleep.

He turned to her, half-clothed and frowning. "Go to sleep," he said again, bending down to tuck the covers around her and press a kiss to her forehead. "I'll be back soon."

Behind him, his father harrumphed.

Jarrod scowled and turned his back on both of them, stalking to the clothes press to finish dressing. She followed him with her eyes, then looked up to see the King still glaring down at her. It occurred to her with sudden, stunning clarity that underneath the bed cover she was still naked, and she had to fight off the irrational embarrassment that followed. She had not done anything wrong, she had to remind herself, and there was no way she could have predicted the King's sudden intrusion into her morning routine.

Looking up again, she met the low, simmering anger in his eyes with cool equanimity, and held his gaze for a moment. He was nearly quivering with suppressed energy. Pulling the quilt over her head, Verity rolled over and burrowed her face into the pillows. It was early, and there was no reason why she couldn't get another hour's sleep before rising. There she remained, still and silent under the covers, ears perked for the sound of footsteps leaving the room. First Jarrod's heavy footfalls, and then the King's lighter tread.

There was silence, and for a moment she thought the storm had passed and she could safely return to sleep.

Then, so softly she half-thought she imagined it, "I'll be back to deal with _you_ later." And the sound of the door shutting firmly. And then, finally, true silence, if not peace.

It took a while for her hammering heart to quiet down enough to allow her to fall back asleep, but eventually she did. The room was still when she woke again, and empty. Someone on the staff had been through, neatening the little messes all around the room and bringing in fresh linen. Her yellow bed coat lay neatly folded on a chair. Verity crawled out of the tangle of bedding and threw it on, tying the belt securely. Not that anyone other than the housemaids was likely to see her pass in the corridor from Jarrod's room to her own, but old habits died hard.

Barefoot, she padded the short distance to her room, and eased the door open. Just as she was slipping in, she caught a shadow at the corner of her eye and heard a low gasp. She shut the door behind her hastily, but not quite quickly enough that she didn't catch sight of Rory, the youngest Kallis son, ducking away behind the turn of the corridor. She sighed deeply.

"Something the matter, milady?" asked Petra, her tone as reassuringly unruffled as ever.

Verity sighed again. "Nothing much," she said. "Just my husband off on a mysterious errand for the King. Oh, and young master Rory has caught sight of me in my dressing gown. And I haven't so much as combed my hair or had my morning tea."

"I can solve one problem for you straight away," said Petra practically, dusting her hands on her skirt. "The teapot is already hot."

Verity sank heavily into the chair before her dressing table. "Seven blessings to you, Petra," she said. "Nothing would ever go right without you."

"As you say, milady," replied Petra, a very small smile creeping in the corner of her mouth.


End file.
